


A Voice, A Touch

by MiniNephthys



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, F/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-17
Updated: 2011-07-17
Packaged: 2017-10-21 12:13:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/225041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiniNephthys/pseuds/MiniNephthys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherry likes Wesker more and more as she grows up.  Kink Bingo, for the square "worship."  September 2010.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Voice, A Touch

Three years old.

"Sherry, this is Mr. Wesker," her father told her, pointing out the man in their living room. "Go say hi."

Carefully, Sherry walked over to the stranger sitting on the couch. He was big, bigger than her father or her mother, and more imposing. He didn't look as though he smiled very much. "H-hi. I'm Sherry Birkin." Hesitantly, she stuck out her hand.

Wesker looked at her for a moment - at least, she thought he must have, it was hard to tell behind his sunglasses - before taking her smaller hand and giving it a gentle shake.

It was surprising. She'd thought he'd do everything strongly since he looked strong, but he was good at controlling himself. If it were her, she probably would have bruised her hand at least.

Yeah, he looked a little scary, but he was cool. When he let go, she turned back to her father. "I like him," she announced.

Her father chuckled. "Tell him that, not me."

"Oh!" Sherry turned back. "I like you, Mr. Wesker."

Finally, Wesker smiled very slightly. She felt proud of herself for causing it. "Thank you."

Six years old.

"Mr. Wesker is visiting again," her father informed her when he got home, and she bolted upright in her seat. Sure enough, following him was the rarely-seen, mysterious coworker of his.

"Mr. Wesker!" She climbed out of her chair and ran to hug his leg.

Wesker stopped, probably bewildered as she would realize later, looking to her father for help. "Birkin..."

Gently, her father pried her off his leg. "Remember to ask first, Sherry."

Sherry blinked. "Oh yeah. I-I'm sorry, Mr. Wesker." She bowed her head in shame.

Wesker shook his head a little. "It was a typical reaction, that I should have expected."

"Women hug you without warning all the time?" her father teased.

His coworker looked thoughtful. "Well..."

Sherry ignored them. He was truly forgiving, to not even be a little upset with her for startling him. If it had been her, she would've gotten mad even if it was a little thing. He had bigger things to focus on.

He was definitely cool. She watched him and heard him without truly picking up anything else.

Twelve years old.

"Sherry, I... this is hard to say." Her father took in a breath. "We're going to go live with Mr. Wesker for a while, okay?"

"Mr. Wesker?" Sherry's face lit up. That would be like a vacation! "That sounds great, Dad. When are we leaving?"

"As soon as we can. Pack your things while I finish up with mine," he told her, looking a little guilty.

She paused. "Isn't Mom coming?"

He cringed. "I'm sorry, but... Mom can't come. ...you see..."

Several hours later, they arrived at Wesker's home. Sherry barely noticed the dull decor more reminiscent of a laboratory as they entered. She and her father walked until they reached a living room, where Wesker was sitting.

"It's good to see you again, Wesker."

"Nice to see you again, Mr. Wesker." The Birkins spoke in quick succession.

Wesker nodded. "Although the circumstances are far from ideal, I welcome you into my home. Your rooms are the two furthermost down that hallway - you may put your things down there."

Her father thanked him and headed down that hallway, dragging his suitcases with them. Sherry remained standing in the corridor, staring at her feet.

"...Sherry?" Wesker asked after a moment.

Her face jerked up. "M-Mr. Wesker?"

"Your father has already left to put his things away. Is there a reason you have yet to do the same?" he asked, noticing the suitcase that must have been enormous for a twelve-year-old to drag around.

"I didn't really hear you when you said we could," she answered. "I was... thinking."

He paused, thinking. "This must be very difficult for you, as it is for your father. With William, I know what I can do to distract him and help him move on. With you... You have always been a mystery."

"I'm not really important or difficult to understand," she admitted. "You don't need to worry about me."

"I insist. It is my duty as your host to ensure that you are at least happy enough to hear me speak. Things run more smoothly that way." His lips curled upwards.

She sighed. "I might hug you."

"I will live."

"A lot."

He chuckled. "Do your worst."

She felt herself smiling in return. Even if he said he knew nothing of the sort, he could make her happy. Even when her own father hadn't been able to cheer her up on the trip there. Cool didn't seem to cover it, now.

Fourteen years old.

"Mr. Wesker?" Sherry asked as she stepped into his office.

She could only assume he glanced upwards. "What is it?"

"I brought you lunch." She set the sandwich, latte, and cookies on his desk. "Actually, I, um, made you lunch. Even the cookies are leftovers from when I baked some..." Flushed, she looked away from him.

"Thank you, Sherry," he answered. For a while after that, there was nothing but the sounds of a pen on paper.

She turned back, glaring. "You aren't eating."

"I have a few more papers to finish, " he replied, not intimidated in the least by the girl frowning at him. "When my work is completed, I will eat."

"I've heard that story before." Sherry tried her firmest tone of voice. "Until you eat something, I am not leaving this office."

He smirked. "And that is such a terrible fate?"

Her face turned bright red, and she struggled for words. Giving up, she pulled up a chair and watched him work.

Without even seeming to try, he could disarm her completely and make her lose track of what she had been attempting to do. It wasn't just her, either - he always came out the victor in the verbal sparring he and her father had. He was brilliant in more than just the scientific way.

She really, really liked him, more than he knew.

Sixteen years old.

Sherry waited until she was pretty sure her father was fast asleep. The last thing she wanted was an interruption.

It was convenient that she didn't normally wear any clothes to bed anyway. With a small sigh, she began rubbing one of her breasts gently.

Would he be like this, at first? She'd never seen him with a woman, so it was possible that he was as inexperienced as she was, but not likely, not with his looks. More likely - she moved more roughly, pulling the nipple between her fingers - he would be calm and confident like he was with everything else.

His looks. Dear God, his looks. In the summer she had occasionally managed to drag him to the pool. He rarely consented to actually swim, but he would concede taking off his shirt. He had abs better than any she'd seen before, and they had cable so she'd seen a lot. She wanted to lick them, trace every line of them with her tongue.

"We... Wes...ker..." With her free hand, she slipped two fingers inside her entrance, thumb rubbing at her clit. Her body jolted, and she let out a loud moan of his name again.

Right. He'd have to let her drop the 'Mr.', if they were doing this, wouldn't he? It wouldn't sound right. Even though elsewhere, she didn't mind it so much - it was a reminder of how much better he was, how much smarter and stronger and more perfect he was.

His fingers would be better than this, too, those gloved hands moving expertly like they always did. How much better would it feel to have him there, instead of her poor imitation?

Her hands moved faster. What would she do for him? Probably they'd have regular sex, or maybe after he was done with this - he was a gentleman, of course - she would kneel before him and focus all her energy on pleasing him, on repaying him, on being worthy of his attention for one moment-

It was the thought of pleasing him that made her come, and she cried out one last time before collapsing against her bed. Pulling up the blanket to hide any stains, she promptly fell asleep.


End file.
